To love Robin i' the Hood is to be cursed by him.

I met him as a child, and loved him with all the passion of a new soul. I was upon the cusp of my life; a young woman full of dreams. I thought of myself as an adult then, but looking back; I truly was a child.

He was my everything. I went wild for him - I ceased to be the maiden of the castle as I had been groomed to be. I grew branches and limbs; I had leaves sprouting from my hair and my heart. I became as much a part of Sherwood as I was of Robin's heart. I became a young tree of the forest and the spirits that live there.

This is central to my story - I am Sherwood. I am not of Nottingham. I am not of the Church. I am a forest spirit, a daughter of Herne the Hunter. No matter how I devoted myself to other things, I shall always be one of the moving trees of Sherwood.

I am a forest spirit. I cannot forget that.

I grew wild for him. Wild like mother's rose bushes after she died. Perhaps I grew thorny as well, for after his death, I lost some of my compassion.

I lost some of my humanity.

I loved Robert. I do not deny it. But it was not the same. It was desperate - it was need. I needed to love Robert. I needed to be his wife. I needed to belong to someone like Robin. I needed to belong to Robin i' the Hood. Therefore, I needed to belong to Robert.

But then he died too. It wasn't real, but it was real enough for me. I couldn't belong to Robin or Robin i' the Hood ever again. My Robin was dead; his successor already grieved by me. I couldn't spread my roots in Sherwood without Robin - either of them - so I pulled them up and ran to the only place I thought I would find solace.

The Abbey was peaceful. I spent many hours in the gardens, watching the plants grow and strengthen. I felt my roots calling out for Sherwood, but my human heart was too strongly hurt. I simply watched the seedlings sprout and the flowers blossom, smiling for the life and their warmth.

I could never be a walking tree of Sherwood again. My still human heart could not bare it. Not while his ghost still walked beside me there.

I had been at the Abbey over a year when he came to me. I heard his voice as clear as in my memory; beckoning me to come forward.

It was a cold night, and I forgot my shawl in my haste to go to him. Like a child whose parent had been away to war, I ran out of the gates and fell at Herne's feet, weeping at the sight of his solemn face. He did not have to tell me; the sadness in his eyes spoke volumes.

"Robin i' the Hood's successor has past. My second son has joined the first."

The grief in his voice was overwhelming. I forgot my own and rose to my knees, wrapping my arms around his middle. He dropped his hands on my shoulders, and we stayed like that for a time. I held the almighty forest spirit and wept into his skins. I wept for both of us, for I knew he could not cry.

We stayed that way til morning. He leaned to me and kissed my brow, calling me his daughter once more. I watched him vanish into the mist and returned to my cell, trembling and ill from the tears.

When I had missed the morning bell, the sisters came to find me feverish and shaking beneath my blankets. I cannot recall much of the week I nearly died, but the dreams will be forever vivid in my mind.

"Marion!" my Robin called to me from atop the hill. His face was blacked by shadows, the sun at head height behind him. His bow was propped proudly at his side, his knee cocked. He was reaching to me with his free hand, his fingers splayed wide. "Marion, come back! Sherwood needs you! You must find our successor - the next Robin i' the Hood!"

"No!" I shouted, shaking my head. I clutched the rosary that hung from my habit with all my strength. God, do not let me falter! I cannot return!

"Marion, do not defy your heart!" he commanded. "You must return! Robert is gone, but my work is left undone! You know your destiny!"

"NO!" I shouted again, dropping the cross to bolt my hands over my ears. I cannot! I cannot!

"Marion!"

And I woke. A week had passed, and by that time, I knew what must be done. I thanked the sisters, I kissed them all goodbye. I held them as they wept, but could not weep myself. I felt as though I was made of stone - a petrified tree that could not longer sway in the breeze.

Herne welcomed me with open arms, though his eyes were dark with sorrow. "You are my daughter, and I shall forever embrace you." The others welcomed me in their grief, embracing me and weeping into my hair. I had become their mother, as my Robin had been their father. I held them each in turn and kissed their faces lovingly. By their love, I became a tree in Sherwood again, though I was an older, scarred and twisted one now.

It was my destiny to find the next Robin, and find him I did. His name was Marcus and he was a farmer whose village had been razed to the ground by King John's men. He was reluctant, but that passed with the time he travelled with us. He became a dear friend, who knew lose as great I. His wife had been taken and murdered by the soldiers, just as Scarlett's had. They became closer still, and often went hunting alone together. I saw a brotherhood between them unlike any other, and I cherished them both.

I lost Marcus four years after my return. He lasted the longest, and took Scarlett with him. They died defending a church filled with women and children. They gave us just enough time to rescue the lot, before they fell in a rain of flaming arrows.

Robin, my Robin, I have lost your third brother.

The fourth came soon enough. His name was James and Herne embraced him, as did I. He came eagerly this time - a splendid youth with wild black hair. He was the son of a merchant and tired of seeing people robbed blind by those with money. He wanted justice and peace and things he really did not understand. I grieved over his age, but did my duty to him. He lasted a year and died upon his seventeen birthday. He was like a son to me and the lose of him nearly drove me into madness. I spent half a year hiding in Herne's cave, trying to heal my wounded soul. The scars on my trunk and branches grew, but with them, I grew taller and stronger. Soon, I would be the strongest tree in all of Sherwood.

I would never be Robin i' the Hood's tree again - I would be Herne's tree.

I grew old and fostered many Robins. I saw the deaths of all of them, along with the original band of Merry Men. I saw replacements come and go, yet Herne and I remained the same. By the time King John finally fell at the hand of his brother - he had not died by an arrow strike; it had been a lie he himself created so he could grow stronger, unnoticed - I had truly become old. I had white coming in my hair and my skin had begun to wrinkle. The Robins all thought of me as sister or mother now, and that was fine.

I could love no one by my Robin and my Robert. Both were gone and my heart still mourned them. My Robin especially.

So when there was no need for Robin anymore, there became no need for me as well. Herne came to me the day the last Robin and his men left. He sat across from me and took my hands. He smiled sadly at me and kissed them. "Daughter, what can I give to you in return for your faithful service?"

I did not hesitate: "Make a tree, Father Herne. Make me one of Sherwood's great trees, so that my outside can match my inside."

He kissed my hands again and pulled me to my feet. He embraced me for one last time and kissed my cheek, before releasing me forever. He stepped back, his arms stretched wide. "Then grow, my child, and became the greatest tree in Sherwood."

I began to grow taller. I towered over him, watching his smiling face as I shot up amongst the branches of the other trees. My skin grew hard and covered in bark. My arms stretched out and splintered into branches. My hair turned from white and red to a deep green and became to clump together in leaves. My feet took root and in a heartbeat, I was a tree.

My spirit soared above my body and I stared down at it in wonder. I am a tree! A tree of Sherwood! I danced merrily amongst my branches and sailed down to kiss Herne's cheek. He laughed and shooed me away, for I was one of his spirits now.

I would remain in Sherwood, free and ever growing. I would watch over this place where my Robin once dwelled. One day he would come for my soul.

But until then, I would grow.

A/N: I was watching RoS last night, as I could not sleep, and began to think of what could have happened after the series ended. I could see Marion becoming a mother figure to the Robins that would come, and I began to wonder how all the changes would make her feel.

She's always been a wild creature – she fit so well in the forest. I guess that's where the idea of her being a tree came from. I also thought of the myth of Diana; who became a tree to escape the love of an overbearing man. Marion, however, became one the escape the grief of an overbearing destiny.

It's weird, I know, but it felt good to write it.

Echo the Insane